


You're Our Sharpshooter

by safety_dancer



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Gen, Light Angst, it had to be done, ive been thinking about this scene for WEEKS, my boy lance deserves appreciation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-15
Updated: 2017-03-15
Packaged: 2018-10-05 10:22:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,302
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10304681
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/safety_dancer/pseuds/safety_dancer
Summary: My take on how Shiro reacts to hearing Lance call himself Voltron's seventh wheel.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [theowrites (princetheo)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/princetheo/gifts).



> HAPPY BIRTHDAY SUMAYA I HOPE U LIKE THIS ILY

It's Lance's tone that catches Shiro’s attention- The majority of his focus had been on the task at hand (trying not to blow up at Slav, who was _seriously_ pushing all of his buttons), and so he had tuned out Lance's tinny voice coming through the helmets comm link- until now.

 _“Pidge is the hacker of our group,”_ Lance informs his companion, Not-Slav, with pride. _“Shiro is our awesome leader.”_

A smile turns up the corner of Shiro’s lips at Lance's words; his sincerity was endearing, if not a little embarrassing.

 _“Hunk’s our mechanic,”_ Lance continues, _“He's also a chef and just a pretty cool dude to hang out with.”_

Shiro breathes out a silent laugh, ignoring the confused and panicky look Slav sends him. The adoration Lance had for his best friend was undoubtedly clear; he was an open book, and he didn't hide what he was thinking or feeling. It was one of the things Shiro admired most about him, really.

 _“Keith is always doing things like flying into asteroid fields and black holes and cool junk like that,”_ Lance says, and Shiro can _hear_ the grin in his voice. Shiro wants to say something along the lines of “Keith will _never_ believe me if I tell him you said that,” except that Lance is suddenly speaking again;

 _“And I thought I was the team's sharpshooter, but I guess no one else seems to think that,”_ Lance says in a softened tone, and the pride with which he boasted about his friends is replaced with a bone-deep uncertainty, _“Maybe I don't have a thing… maybe I'm just a fifth wheel. Seventh, if you count Allura and Coran.”_

Shiro tries to think of something, _anything_ , to say. He wants to tell Lance that _no_ , he's _not_ just a fifth wheel. He's a _valued_ member of their team; he's a leg of Voltron, both literally and figuratively. He's their support system. They _rely_ on him, more than they let on, and Shiro regrets that they don't tell him this enough. Guilt settles heavily in the pit of his stomach. He feels like he's let Lance down as a leader, and as a _friend_.

Lance's muted footsteps pause, and his voice is leaden with misery as he whispers, _“That's a pretty horrible wheel to be.”_

Shiro’s heart _breaks_ for him. He doesn't think Lance realizes that Shiro can hear him, and he wonders how long Lance has kept these feelings bottled up, how long he's hidden his insecurities behind a smiling demeanor. Shiro wants to punch something; he wants to punch _himself_ for failing to acknowledge the fact that Lance _wasn't_ all blustering bravado and unsubtle flirtatiousness. He was a kid, miles away from home, trying to find out just _where_ exactly he fit on this team.

Slav is yelling something, sounding terrified as four of his hands tighten their grip on Shiro’s armor, his other two hands pointing at the floor. Shiro catches something about a reality where they die because he stepped left foot first instead of right, and he grits his teeth. He'll have to worry about Lance later; right now, they had a mission to complete.

∆∆

 

They're back at the castleship, having successfully rescued Slav, who was currently working hard on engineering the gravity generator for the teludav. Everyone is equally exhausted, but there's an atmosphere of accomplishment; their plan was in motion, and since Zarkon had lost the ability to make contact with the Black Lion, they were momentarily safe from any surprise attacks. This allowed for the paladins to, finally, take a breather.

Shiro tried sleeping, but for how tired he was, he just wasn't able to fall asleep. He lay there on the mattress, staring up at the ceiling as today's event played back in his mind. He couldn't stop thinking about Lance's words:  _“But I guess no one else thinks that.”_ Shiro feels sick to his stomach, and he sits up, running an agitated hand through his white fringe. Standing, he exits his room and silently walks the hall, stopping in front of Lance's door. He raps twice, quietly, and only has to wait a few seconds before the door slides open with a _hiss_ , and Lance greets him with a sleepy smile, dressed in his night robe and Blue Lion slippers.

“Hey, Shiro,” he says past a yawn, rubbing his eyes tiredly. “What's up?”

“Can we talk?” Shiro asks quietly, watching as the smile drops from Lance's lips and his expression turns serious at the tone of Shiro’s voice.

“Of course, man,” Lance says, stepping aside and motioning for Shiro to come in, letting the door slide shut behind him as he takes a seat on the bed, staring up at Shiro with a mixture of apprehension and curiosity. “So? Am I in trouble or something? Because whatever it is, it's _probably_ Keith’s fault-”

Shiro shakes his head with a tiny smile, and Lance blows out an exaggerated relieved sigh.

“I wanted to talk about earlier,” Shiro explains, “About what you said.”

Lance blinks. “What'd I say?”

“About- about being the team's fifth wheel.” Shiro purses his lips and gauges Lance's expression. The blue paladin flushes, opens his mouth, only to snap it shut and shrug his shoulders.

“Pft, don't worry about it, Shiro,” he says, trying for a smile as he waves his hand in a dismissive gesture. “I was just saying things, y’know, uhm, feeling the stress of the moment. It's no big de-”

“Don't tell me not to worry, Lance,” Shiro interrupts quickly, firmly. He takes a seat beside the blue paladin, close enough that their sides press together from shoulder to thigh. He looks over at Lance, meeting his gaze squarely as he speaks, “I want to apologize, firstly, for not saying or _doing_ anything sooner. I haven't been paying enough attention to how you've been feeling and what's been bothering you, and I am truly sorry for that, Lance.” He smiles sadly. Lance stares at him with wide eyes, an embarrassed pink tint to his cheeks.

“Shiro, it's really okay, I'm-”

“It's not okay,” Shiro says, looking down at his hands. He flexes the fingers of his prosthetic once, and draws a breath. “Lance, you mean _so much_ to this mission, to the team, to _me_. We don't tell you that often enough. Actually, I'm not sure we've really told you that at all. I haven't been the best leader or friend to you. I'm- I'm working on that. But- just know that you are _completely_ and totally vital and _important_ to everyone here, okay? You're no fifth wheel, Lance. Don't ever let yourself believe that, got it?”

Lance is quiet for a good ten seconds, and when Shiro looks up at him, there are tears flowing down his cheeks, and his lips are turned up into a wobbly smile. “First off; no, I'm not crying. I got some- _something_ in my eye,” Lance says quickly, “Secondly; I am feeling very overwhelmed, I have no idea what to say, and just- uh. Don't tell Keith that you've seen me not-cry. I have a reputation, y’know.” He laughs, except it sounds a little bit more like a sob. “Listen, listen, these are _happy_ tears, I _swe_ -”

Shiro turns and rests his hands lightly on Lance's shoulders, leaning forward so that their foreheads are pressed together. Lance quiets, closing his eyes and breathing out a tiny sigh. “Thank you, Shiro,” he whispers, and though his voice is thick, Shiro can hear the sincerity and contentment behind it. He moves his hands from Lance's shoulders to the sides of his face, brushing away the tears clinging to his cheeks with a swipe of his thumb.

“You're our sharpshooter, Lance,” he murmurs with a slanted smile, “We need you.”

Lance grins. “I know.”

**Author's Note:**

> this is my first time writing Lance so feedback is appreciated!!


End file.
